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Their summer reminds me, Of the eternal one that was yours, And hair dark like summer storms That smelled of spring flowers, Eyes like the streams We would watch at midday, The eyes that taught me, To open mine and see day, A smile that would play On the corner of rosed lips, Withholding the laughter That built into fits, Fingers that danced over skin, Beaded with the drops, You caused down my spine, With every game that I "lost" A collarbone I knew by heart, As my lips blindly traced, Every dip of your skin, Felt how your heart raced, You tasted like first rain, As your tongue asked for entrance, As gentle as lightening, With our fingers finally laced, My hands found home At your hips, And my mouth found life At your lips, Scars laced your arms, Like vines filled with each flower, And I knew every curve, I knew everything you'd allow her, The blush of your cheeks That rose from your neck, With every stolen glance, And every stolen peck. The thunder storms dried, And spring flowers turned to dust, Leaving nothing but chill, Where there was once lust, The rains turned to dry puddles, Your collarbone to stone, No longer beating, Completely alone, Beads of sweat turned to tears, As your fingers lay still, No heart beat resonated, I didn't see you where ill, The blush of your cheeks, Became the red of your vines, The roses where blooming, As my flower died, And so came on winter, Frost fell over the ground, Of Sleeping Beauty's own grave, Death nor love, neither be proud...
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Finally wrote you your poem
Their summer reminds me, Of the eternal one that was yours, And hair dark like summer storms That smelled of spring flowers, Eyes like the streams We would watch at midday, The eyes that taught me, To open mine and see day, A smile that would play On the corner of rosed lips, Withholding the laughter That built into fits, Fingers that danced over skin, Beaded with the drops, You caused down my spine, With every game that I "lost" A collarbone I knew by heart, As my lips blindly traced, Every dip of your skin, Felt how your heart raced, You tasted like first rain, As your tongue asked for entrance, As gentle as lightening, With our fingers finally laced, My hands found home At your hips, And my mouth found life At your lips, Scars laced your arms, Like vines filled with each flower, And I knew every curve, I knew everything you'd allow her, The blush of your cheeks That rose from your neck, With every stolen glance, And every stolen peck. The thunder storms dried, And spring flowers turned to dust, Leaving nothing but chill, Where there was once lust, The rains turned to dry puddles, Your collarbone to stone, No longer beating, Completely alone, Beads of sweat turned to tears, As your fingers lay still, No heart beat resonated, I didn't see you where ill, The blush of your cheeks, Became the red of your vines, The roses where blooming, As my flower died, And so came on winter, Frost fell over the ground, Of Sleeping Beauty's own grave, Death nor love, neither be proud...
I'm sorry it took me so long. I'm sorry its too late
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May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
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